Insomnia                      



  “Don’t. Don’t make a move. Let me crush you right on the
spot.  You’ll be punished for invading my privacy in the middle
of the night.  I declared his death sentence with a swatter in
my hand, but the fly on the wall wasn’t scared at all.  He was
mocking me with his repulsive compound eyes the very
moment I issued the death warrant. The second I raised my
hand, he flew off the wall and crashed into the window glass,
and circled the room like a maniac.  I patiently waited for the
right time.

  After the maneuver, he landed on the curtain rod and I took
the rare opportunity to jump off the ground to strike him
down.  Sure enough, I missed the bastard embarrassingly so I
sat to contemplate my next move. Why would a little fly make
it mission in life to torment me in the middle of the night?  We
both knew there was no way out. The door was shut and
windows closed; one of us had to fall tonight.

As I was fantasizing the creative ways to destroy my enemy,
the insect callously opened another front in the war and
suddenly flew right into my face. A split second before
clocking me in the eye, he changed his path and violently
circled around my head. Now the only way to strike him down
was to punch my own face.  This charade had gone long
enough.

He then flew to the top corner of the room where two walls
met the ceiling and took a unique position to control the
entire war zone, my small room with nothing in it but a few
fresh canvases on the floor with a little stool in front, and the
easel supporting my freshly painted woman in nude lying on
her back seductively posing and now impatiently waiting to
see the end of this theater.

  As I had my eyes fixed on the enemy, I cautiously pulled the
stool closer with my toes, lifted one leg and stepped up. As
soon as I managed to stand on the bench, the fly resorted to
a vicious tactic to throw me off balance. He generated a head
piercing noise and circled the room too far for me to reach
and too close to compound my torment.  Once again I madly
leaped in the air to strike him down and claim his life.

I fell to the ground and the buzzing stopped.  The room
plunged into an eerie silence; no sign of insect. Anxiously, I
scanned every inch of the carpet searching for a little black
spot. He was nowhere to be found. I gazed at every corner of
the room looking for his crushed body when suddenly I
noticed the monster sitting where I could never have
expected. It was lurking right in the middle of the long pubic
hairs of my beauty. “No, the paint is fresh,” I pleaded in agony.

As easy as it was to strike him now, it was impossible for me
to do so. I loved my art more than I hated my enemy. I was
petrified with my hand clamped over my mouth realizing how
much damage he could inflict on my beauty and how easily
he could destroy me. The hideous creature was clinging to
the most sacred part of her body waiting for my next move. I
had none as he’d already invaded my soul.  

  My only hope was he wouldn’t make any sudden moves on
my freshly painted virgin. I quietly dropped my weapon and
kneeled before my art and threw myself at the mercy of my
ruthless enemy.

  Moments later and before my bewildered eyes, the
repulsive insect started fondling my woman with his disgusting
claws and she responded his advances by seductive shifts of
her hips.  I could hear her heavy breathing and I could see
the insatiable lust in her rhythmic vibration of her thighs in
pleasure. It was so difficult to say if the bug was more
satisfied at seeing me in pain or seeing her in pleasure.
She brushed her body on my canvas and took a more
compromising position. My beautiful creation opened her
mouth and gasped for air, and I could see the tip of her
tongue moisturizing her lower lip. How beautiful her rosy
tongue complimented the crimson of her sinful lips. Oh, how
painful it was to see my love losing her innocence to a
monster in my presence. How cruel could she be?

With the lustful gyrations of her hips, she further tempted the
creature and moments later the insect crawled between her
thighs and disappeared. She then closed her legs and coiled
her body and her moaning and panting tarnished the serenity
of midnight.

   She was ravaged before my eyes and the sharp pieces of
her pleasure scarred my soul. The vibrancy of her flesh on
my canvas revived my imagination in ways I never thought
possible. With her every move, she created vivid colors I'd
never thought existed and with her every act, she made an
exotic image I’d never dared to paint in my wildest dreams.

  She was drowning in the colorful ocean of desire and with
every sudden movement of her sinful flesh she artistically
portrayed her pleasure with the colors of my pain. Helplessly,
I watched an insect reshape my imagination, redefine my
thoughts and recreate my art.  I was condemned to witness
my devastation for moments that seemed as long as eternity
until she was gratified in the climax of ecstasy and exploded
in delight.

  Finally the dripping insect flew off my canvas and my love
vanished in a palette of fresh paints.